


A Little Wicked

by Lost_Elf



Series: Masochist Rhys Series [1]
Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: (like licking small cuts), (okay there is one; just a CW), Anal Sex, Blood, Bruises, Burning, Cowgirl Position, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Flirting, Hand Jobs, Healing Hypos, I used the word ‘canvas’ much more than I should, Kissing, Light BDSM, M/M, Masochism, Masochist Rhys, Mild Wound Play, Multiple Orgasms, Needles, Safe Sane and Consensual, Shameless Smut, can’t believe I’m getting to use that tag again, consensual cutting, first time anal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:28:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28966125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lost_Elf/pseuds/Lost_Elf
Summary: There is a special club on the executive floor of Helios, and Handsome Jack visits it frequently. One of the club workers catches his eye, and he decides to have some unusual fun, break a bunch of rules and, in the end, get a new pet.*-*-*-*I HOPE I tagged it all. Please, note that this is a Masochist!Rhys fic. Jack and Rhys have some messy fun. It's not a grotesque extreme, but it's definitely edge play. Don't try this at home kinda stuff.
Relationships: Handsome Jack/Rhys (Borderlands)
Series: Masochist Rhys Series [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124585
Comments: 9
Kudos: 43





	A Little Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> This work was inspired by [this post](https://redhedwitch.tumblr.com/post/640770778919534592/idk-if-this-is-something-you-dabble-in-but-rhys) on [redheadwitch's](https://redhedwitch.tumblr.com/) Tumblr. Credit for the sparkle that started the wildfire goes to anon and red. ^.^
> 
> Title is from [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=46rUBCewhxY), that I listened to a lot while writing this fic.
> 
> Heed the tags and enjoy! <3

The clubs on the middle floors of Helios are exotic and wild. Those floors are reserved to executives, the board, department heads, and all those higher ups who make more money than they know how to spend. The lower and higher floors are for the worker bees with not enough brain cells or guts to get themselves to a better position. There aren’t nearly as many fun places for them.

Handsome Jack frequents most of those exclusive clubs and bars. Some of his favourites are _Eden Whiskey Bar_ , _The Golden H_ , _Pleasure Temple_ , and probably also the _Purple Sheriff Star_ _Club_ , for nostalgia reasons. Those are all great places to get exotic drinks or pleasure. All of the clubs are also great at cleaning up, so whenever Jack is forced to kill someone on his time off, he doesn’t have to wait ten minutes until all traces are gone and his table is spotless, glass refilled. But that doesn’t happen often, as most Hyperion higher ups are smart enough not to mess with the CEO. Assassination attempts are a thing of the peasants.

Jack’s ultimate favourite place is a club on the floor A66. _The Scarlet Phoenix._ It is unique, to say the least. They provide a special kind of _entertainment_. Young people who are willing to give their bodies up for rich people’s pleasure. They aren’t sex workers, though. The owner of the club calls them _canvases._

It is a Saturday evening and the club is _busy_. Jack had never been there on Saturday, exactly for that reason. There are twice as many workers but also twice as many guests. Jack’s table is the only one that isn’t over-filled with half-empty drinks and discarded clothes. There is only a glass with ice, an expensive bottle of whiskey and an ash tray on the polished wooden surface in front of him, and the staff always makes sure that he has everything he wants.

Jack toys with his lighter, scanning the surroundings for something that would interest him. He doesn’t feel like leaving and finding something better, but the night is moving too slow for his enjoyment.

There is one woman among the _canvases_ that catches his attention. In the dim lights of the club, he can’t pinpoint whether she is eighteen, or twenty-eight, or anything in between. It’s hard to see her in the crowd as she is quite short and her frame frail. Besides her unimpressive height and build, she looks basic. Long brown hair intertwined with fake feathers in effort to make it look more interesting, medium-sized breast and wide hips, white skin. She is only wearing a skirt and an unbuttoned short-sleeved shirt. But even with her plain looks, she always attracts a lot of attention. Jack had seen her around before, and the club regulars seem to love her for some reason. He is willing to finally find out what is so special about her.

Waiting until the crowd around her dissipates – which will take a while, seeing as she is holding a small knife and invitingly pressing it into the hand of anyone who seems to have money – Jack sips his whiskey, relaxing in his chair. It is made out of real wood from Hera, and cushioned with rich red fabric with golden embroidery. The owner of the club didn’t go small decorating the place to stand up to its name, for sure.

The brunette leaves to the dressing room for workers to take a break, and as she goes, the crowd splits, making space (and ogling her mildly impressive butt). Jack follows her movement, but something else catches his eyes. _Someone_ else.

It is a tall young man, pale as alabaster and covered in marks of all kinds. He is swaying on the dance floor, like a minx ignoring a man that is stuffing a bill into his back pocket. The most interesting thing about him is probably his cybernetic arm, sleek and expensive chrome model. When he rises his gaze, looking around the club, probably for the next victim of his charm, his eyes meet Jack’s.

The CEO waits patiently as the tall man makes a decision, slowly walking towards him. There is a look of confidence on his face, even as he approaches the most dangerous guest of the club. His unhurried pace gives Jack an opportunity to look him over thoroughly, and he does just so, breaking eye contact to admire the man’s half-naked body.

He is not wearing a shirt, which reveals not only the cybernetic arm but also blue tattoos spanning over his left arm and chest. They are decorated with streaks of red from small cuts, and purple bruises. Not all of them look like bites and hickeys, and Jack wonders what else does this man let the paying guests do to him. Only a few marks are on his neck, on the right side, opposite to his circular tattoo, as if that place were being protected, kept for someone special. And when he finally comes close, Jack notices that the man has an ECHOeye, and its blue hue looks enticing and exotic in the dark atmosphere of the club.

“Hey, Handsome,” he greets Jack in an attractive deep voice. Up close, Jack also notices that his denim shorts are unbuttoned, his cock hard and straining against the wet fabric of his crimson red underwear.

Instead of answering, Jack leans back in his chair, and the cybernetic man takes up the silent invitation eagerly, settling himself in the CEO’s lap. His thighs are shockingly pale next to Jack’s dark slacks, and so he settles his large hands on them, squeezing. He wants to grip so hard it leaves bruises, but first things first.

“What’s your name, sweet thing?” he asks, once more getting a good look at the beautiful canvas in front of him.

“Rhys,” the man answers, carefully arching his back and giving Jack a clear view of his chest and – _ow_ – especially the needle that is piercing the skin underneath his right nipple. The blood on both ends of the “piercing” is dried up, but the movement makes the scabbing tear up partially, a droplet slowly forming around the head of the needle and then trailing down.

Jack licks his lips, resisting the urge to lean forward and lick the blood off Rhys’ alabaster skin. Instead, he slowly looks up again, making eye contact with him. “Would you mind keeping me company tonight, Rhysie?” he asks, massaging his thighs suggestively. The workers of _The Crimson Phoenix_ aren’t sex workers and don’t sleep with their customers, but that doesn’t mean he can’t touch. Unless Rhys asks him not to, of course.

“It would be a pleasure,” Rhys answers, biting his lip. Jack watches the gesture, his next inhale coming harsher than the previous ones. He decides to indulge himself, cups Rhys’ face in lieu of a question, and when the younger man leans a little closer, he pulls him down the rest of the way and kisses him.

Jack is not a gentle kisser. He bites at Rhys’ lips and tongue when he dares to push it into Jack’s mouth, and it only makes Rhys do it again, test the boundaries. They don’t stop until they are both panting and Rhys’ lips are swollen unevenly, a bruise already forming in one spot while another is red with blood.

While Rhys catches his breath, Jack lets his hands roam over his body, avoiding the cuts and teasing the bruises and small cigarette burns. Those give him a good idea of what mark he wants to leave on the canvas. But all in due time.

“Mind pouring me another drink, Cupcake?” he asks, sitting back while Rhys turns around without standing up and pours Jack a finger of whiskey. There are marks on Rhys’ back too, or at least his shoulders, all fresh and certainly painful as the skin moves and stretches with the movement.

“Thanks,” the CEO accepts his drink and sips. “How long have you been here?” he asks, wondering how much longer the younger man can even last.

Rhys seems taken aback by the question, momentarily. “I’m new here, only been working here for three weeks on weekends,” he answers, tilting his head to the side slightly.

Jack smirks. “I meant tonight, sweet cheeks.”

“Oh,” Rhys blushes and shakes his head. His ECHOeye lights up for a second, and then he answers. “Two hours. My shift usually lasts three.” He bites his lip, contemplating Jack for a long moment, and then he leans forward until he can whisper right into the CEO’s ear. “And I already came once tonight.”

Jack’s hand holding the glass tightens dangerously, his other one diving into Rhys’ gelled up hair and gripping. The younger man lets out a soft gasp.

“That sounds like an invitation, kitten,” Jack points out in a low voice, as much a statement as a question. He feels Rhys nod against the grip in his hair, which pleases him, so he turns his head to the side and rewards him with a gentle bite on his ear lobe. Rhys’ hips move against his.

When Jack allows the man on his lap to sit straight again, he looks much less composed than he was on the dance floor. His cheeks are pink and eyes half-lidded, pupils wide. His hair is a tad ruined, something that Jack doesn’t feel sorry about.

Jack takes another long sip, watching Rhys squirm on his lap a little under his contemplative gaze. He uses his right hand to trace Rhys’ side, then follow his happy trail all the way to the elastic of his underwear. Then he moves onto his thigh again, relishing in the soft moan of disappointment that the younger man lets out when his arousal is so rudely ignored. He traps his lips between his pearly white teeth when Jack’s fingers dip into his shorts from the bottom side, feeling for the hem of the underwear but not finding anything before the denim material becomes too tight against the meat of Rhys’ thigh.

“Are those panties you’re wearing?” Jack deduces, eyebrow raised.

“Mmm, maybe,” Rhys hums, grinning. “Like them? I think they match the club decor and all.”

“Not only that, huh?” Jack points out, thumbing at a bloody but dried up cut just above the hem of the underwear. A bit of blood has soaked up into the material, and it looks _sinful_.

Rhys looks smug when he admires the stain. “People say red looks good on me,” he purrs. He leans closer again, placing his hands on Jack’s shoulders. The CEO understands and closes the distance to kiss him once more, nibbling especially on the swollen areas of Rhys’ lips.

When they part, he holds Rhys in place by the back of his neck, murmuring into his ear. “I’m gonna _ruin_ you, kitten. You will forget your own name when I’m done with you. Would you like that? Would you like _Handsome goddamn Jack_ to take you apart piece by piece and then rebuild you into something—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Rhys rasps out, not even letting Jack finish his speech. “Please,” he adds in a barely any more composed voice.

“Good boy,” Jack praises, feeling Rhys shiver bodily. He finishes his whiskey and sets it on the table, taking his lighter instead. Rhys’ eyes light up when he sees it, and he looks up at the CEO almost pleadingly, trembling in excitement.

“You like playing with fire, Cupcake?” Jack asks while pulling a cigar from his jacket inner pocket. It is an expensive thing, shipped from Dionysus. One costs ten times more than the whole bottle of whiskey that he has been drinking tonight.

Rhys blushes and nods, looking down. “It never even crossed my mind, but when I started working here and saw others doing it, I wanted to try it. And I liked it a lot.”

Jack nods, setting the cigar on the table for now. He flicks the lighter open, a bright purple flame springing up. Rhys looks at it, then at Jack, as if asking for permission, and then he runs his fingers through the fire. He lets out a sound that it half hiss, half groan, and tries to do it again, but Jack grabs his hand.

The CEO holds the younger man’s gaze while he grips his fingers tightly and slowly brings the lighter to his palm, far enough that the burn takes several seconds to build up into something painful. He moves it in a slow, circling motion, not intending to char the canvas right away.

Rhys’ eyes widen when he realises what the older man is intending to do. He tries to stay still, but when it becomes too much, he tears his hand away. Jack lets him go, shutting the lighter with a _click_.

“You okay?” he asks with a chuckle, watching Rhys studying his palm. There is a circle of reddened skin and a trace of ash.

Nodding eagerly, the younger man declares: “I want more.” He even offers his trembling hand to the CEO.

Jack laughs. Rhys looks like he is about to fall apart at any moment. Burning is a different kind of pain than what people are usually used to. “You sure about that?” he asks, but he is already opening the lighter again.

Rhys pouts at him, all puppy eyes and pushed out lip. Then he schools his expression into something much less innocent. “Try me.”

Jack can’t deny the way his dick twitches at that. Those are dangerous words, but he doesn’t waste his breath on explaining the risks to Rhys. Instead, he takes his hand again and places it back above the flame.

This time, Jack doesn’t make circles with the lighter. Instead, he follows a steady spiral, coming a little bit closer to Rhys’ palm with each loop. When Rhys begins to twitch away, he holds him in place firmly, even as the boy yelps and tears form in his eyes. Only when a bit of genuine fear appears on his face does Jack put the fire away and release the grip. He doesn’t let Rhys jerk his hand away, though, wrapping his fingers around his wrist instead and preventing him from hurting himself recklessly.

Rhys’ whole body is shaking, and he takes a few deep breaths before he dares to speak. “ _Ow_ ,” is all he says at first. He sounds pretty miserable.

Carefully, Jack releases the wrist, allowing Rhys to hold it to his chest with his other hand delicately. He carefully manoeuvres him until Rhys is leaning close and resting his forehead on Jack’s shoulder. With that movement, Rhys’ – _hard as rock_ – dick presses against Jack’s, and the CEO lets out an appreciative hum.

“This hurts like _bitch_ ,” Rhys says, eventually.

Jack clucks his tongue, shakes his head. “Language,” he chastises, tightening his grip on Rhys’ shoulder slightly, so his nails dig into the skin.

“Sorry.”

Satisfied, Jack runs his hand down the span of Rhys’ bare back. “You liked it, though, didn’t you?” he asks.

Rhys nods. “Y-yeah... I’m still— I’m still hard.”

“Oh, I know,” Jack laughs, rolling his hips and making them both groan. “You’re a real pain freak, sweet cheeks.” He would like to do more. He would take Rhys into one of the VIP rooms, break all rules of the club and fuck Rhys senseless. Or maybe do it right here, if he were that kind of guy, and mark him like no-one else, so no-one else would ever lay their hands on him.

But that must wait. Instead, Jack gently nudges Rhys’ shoulder to make him sit up and takes his hand again, studying the angry red burn mark.

“This will hurt for the rest of the night if you don’t take your hypo now,” he states. It is an opportunity that he cannot pass. “How about you do that, take a shower and meet me outside in twenty minutes?”

Rhys blinks and stares at Jack. He seems to have trouble understanding the implications, which is understandable, given how badly his hand must be hurting.

“And where are we going?” he asks carefully, making sure that he understood well.

“My place,” Jack suggests. “Unless yours is better.”

Rhys tilts his head to the side, bites his lip. “Your place, then,” he says and tries for a coy smile. He looks too wrecked to pull it off, though.

“Great, see you in twenty,” Jack says and pats Rhys’ hip. The younger man tries to get up, but he sways to the side and almost falls from the fast movement. Jack steadies him, standing up and pushing Rhys to sit in his chair instead.

“You okay? Legs too stiff?” he asks, frowning.

“Yeah, no, I— I don’t know. Just kind of dizzy, out of sudden,” Rhys says as he rubs his forehead.

“Okay,” Jack hums, and takes his whiskey glass, where the ice has mostly melted, leaving behind whiskey-flavoured water. “Take a drink and then try again.” He moves the glass away when Rhys reaches for it with his burnt hand, rolling his eyes when the younger man hisses in pain.

“Here, let me,” he offers, or rather orders, nudging Rhys’ chin up with a forefinger and then pressing the glass to his lips. He lets Rhys sip the water slowly, until his dizziness passes. All the while, the younger man stares up at him with wide eyes, as if absolutely stunned by the action.

“Thanks,” he breathes out when the glass is empty. “I think I can stand up now.” To demonstrate that, he slowly gets up, but he doesn’t object when Jack steadies him. A small blush spreads on his cheeks – ~~something that Jack is slowly growing attached to~~ – and he asks: “So, I’ll take the hypo, shower, and meet you outside?”

“In twenty minutes,” Jack confirms. He watches Rhys walk away, but then he gets a better idea.

“Hey, wait,” he says, jogging a couple paces to grab his shoulder. “Forgot about something.”

Rhys turns to him, puzzled, and instead of explaining himself, Jack takes the head of the needle in the younger man’s chest between his thumb and forefinger. A look of understanding and a nod, and Jack is ripping it out in one fast movement. Not safe but definitely fun, and the hypo will heal it up perfectly anyway.

The younger man hisses but manages to breathe through it without swearing or doubling over, and for that Jack ruffles his hair and smiles at him. Then he returns to his table, tossing the needle into the ashtray. He puts the cigar that he left there previously back into his pocket for later and walks to the bar to get more ice for his whiskey.

Twenty minutes later, Jack walks out of the club to see Rhys already waiting there with a small backpack hanging off his shoulder. He is dressed in shirt and slacks, and a Hyperion vest typical for lower level employees.

“You work here?” Jack asks, surprised.

The younger man startles at hearing his voice and turns to face Jack with a pout. “Yeah, in data-mining,” he replies. “This is more of a...”

“Side gig?” the CEO supplies.

“Hobby.”

Jack laughs incredulously. “Okay. So, your hobby is getting cut and burned by rich assholes?”

Rhys’ pout returns in full force, cheeks red and gaze averted. “And your hobby is cutting and burning strangers; I don’t see how that is different!”

“Touché,” Jack mumbles. Then he cups Rhys’ face, bringing his gaze back to him. “Ready to go?” he asks. Rhys hesitates momentarily, and so he adds: “This is as good time as any to say you don’t want to. I won’t airlock you for saying no; your boss was supposed to tell y’all that.”

“Yeah. Yes— I mean, I want it. Just still a little... I’m a little nervous,” he admits, braking eye contact again. “I’ve never done this before.”

Probably meaning going home with a customer, which is understandable, given that it is technically forbidden by the club policy. Jack smiles and pulls the younger man closer, tucking him under his arm as he walks them to the nearest elevators.

“Don’t worry about nothing, Pumpkin. I won’t bite— Okay, no, I definitely _will_ bite, _hard_ , but I won’t do anything you don’t want.”

Rhys seems shy in the well-lit hallways of the executive floor, but as soon as the elevator door closes behind them and Jack thumbs the floor button, the younger man presses up against him, pulling the CEO down for a kiss.

The ride to the penthouse is long, and the elevator has to switch tracks two times, so they have plenty of time to ravish each other’s lips again. Rhys’ were all healed up from the hypo, and now, Jack can _not_ allow that. He also sucks a dark purple hickey on the right side of Rhys’ neck where all the other hickeys were. Now it is only this one, and Jack feels stupidly proud of it, some primal part of him satisfied that his mark is the only one that remains.

When they finally arrive at the penthouse, Rhys’ hair – damp from the shower – is messy and sticking out in all directions, and the top buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing bites on his neck, throat and collar bones.

Jack punches in the access code to the penthouse and answers to voice verification and swears as he waves his wristwatch over a scanner, hating all those stupid safety measures that his security team forced him to put up. When the door finally opens, he pulls Rhys in by the lapels of his shirt, kissing him briefly before descending upon his neck again.

Once in the penthouse, Rhys seems to lose all vocal restraints, moaning loudly and whimpering when Jack bites down, creating yet another mark. He is hard in his slacks, just like Jack, and the CEO hums in appreciation.

“Did you jerk off in the shower?” he asks to make sure.

“No,” Rhys replies obediently. “Didn’t seem right.”

“Mmm, _good boy_ ,” Jack praises and finally pulls away. They made it to the bedroom, but before he completely ravages Rhys, some things need to be established.

“Okay, before we do this, I need to know your no’s. Don’t want to break ya.” He pointedly steps away from the younger man, not trusting himself not to be tempted, and definitely not trusting Rhys to keep a level head when he is looking at Jack the way he is.

“Uh, so,” Rhys begins, clearly out of his element. His eyes dart around the bedroom, slightly widening when he notices all the luxurious décor that Jack has filled his living space with, and especially the window overlooking Pandora and filling the room with a low hue.

Jack clears his throat, bringing the attention back to himself, and Rhys finally finds his words. “I’m okay with almost anything when it comes to pain, even extremes, but I don’t want anything that leaves marks on my thighs.” He looks up at Jack for a second, and then continues, confidence returning to him. “I don’t top or Dom, but sometimes I make my partners, uhmm, _fight_ for it, if you know what I mean.”

Jack grins. He certainly doesn’t mind breaking Rhys a little. He nods at him to continue, self-restraint dwindling.

“Uh, I use the same safe word that we use in the club, which is _phoenix_. And uhm… that should be all, I guess… What about you?” he asks.

Jack is a little taken aback and has to consider the question. His partners usually thought that if he didn’t like something they did, he would let them know in a vocal way with a side of threats. He also rarely found himself on the receiving end of anything sexual except for blowjobs, which were hard to screw up.

“Safe word’s _Elpis_ , that’s all we need,” he says finally. “One more thing. I have some hypos here, but I don’t insist. If you don’t want to do anything that causes too much damage, you can say so.”

Rhys blinks, puts on an innocent smile that makes him look like a small demon in Jack’s eyes. “I was hoping you would cause a lot of damage after what you did in the club,” he says sweetly, walking towards the CEO. He stops just a breath shy of kissing him, adding in a whisper: “Please, _Handsome Jack_ … Make me _bleed_.”

The rush of heat and arousal surging through Jack’s body almost makes him stumble, but thankfully, he manages to keep his balance as he pushes Rhys harshly towards the bed, making him fall back with an _oof_. The CEO is on him in an instant, tearing his shirt open.

Jack mutters a curse under his breath, admiring the pristine skin. Not a single mark is left after the healing serum except for the bite marks that he created on their way here. All of Rhys is his to mark and break and shape and paint in all colours. He fucking _loves_ it.

The younger man cries out when nails dig sharply into his nipple. He instinctively arches away from the source of pain, and Jack answers by gripping his neck in warning and holding him in place while he torments the sensitive nub until there are small indents from his nails everywhere around it and Rhys is squirming. Then he moves onto the other one, teasing it with his tongue for a second and then biting down.

“ _Ah_ , fuck!” the man underneath him yelps, hips moving on their own accord as they seek friction, so close to release.

Jack growls, letting go of Rhys’ nipples in order to glare at him. He squeezes his neck tighter, this time dangerously restricting – Rhys _moans in pleasure_ , something that Jack happily takes a note of – and orders: “Apologise. And watch your language next time!”

“S-sorry, I’m sorry!” the younger man gasps out, struggling to even speak loud enough. He pulls in a large gulp of air when Jack releases him, but then his throat is squeezed again.

“This is a precaution,” Jack explains at Rhys’ confused look before he leans down to bite at his collar bone harshly. Feeling the skin breaking under his teeth satisfies him at last, and he releases Rhys at the same time as he looks up, licking blood off his lips.

“Oh god,” Rhys blurts out, breaking into a babble. “I can’t anymore, please, please, _please_ , I need to come.” Even as he says that, he keeps his hands to himself, gripping the sheets by his sides tightly.

Jack hums and considers it, and then undoes Rhys’ pants tantalisingly slowly. First the button, popping it through the hole with out-of-place gentility. Then he plays with the zipper, pulling it down a bit, up again, until the man underneath him is mewling. When he finally pulls the zipper open, he is a little disappointed to find a different pair of underwear than what he saw in the club. This one is also silky, black and decorated with lace.

Patience running out, Jack tears the pants off Rhys in three fast tugs. His underwear comes into full view, and Jack is not so disappointed anymore. It is a very fancy looking thong, and Rhys’ dick makes the fabric tent up beautifully.

Seeing the pretty thing, Jack gets the urge to ruin it, much like with Rhys, and so he doesn’t bother taking them off, merely pulls Rhys’ dick out through the side and gives him a long stroke.

“Are you gonna come for me, Cupcake?” he asks in a saccharine voice, continuing to jerk him off very slowly. “Did the thought of me biting you, cutting you, fucking you and marking you get you so wound up that you’ll shoot off before the main event even starts?”

Rhys’ face and chest are flushed, eyes glistening as he nods, letting out one desperate moan after the other. He is trying to be good, holding his hips still, but Jack is downright torturing him with the slow movements. He knows that, and he keeps it that way until Rhys dissolves into a begging mess and even after that.

“Ja— oh god, _please_ , J-Jack, sir, please, I need to come, _please_ …”

“Do you now?” the CEO hums, mindlessly running his thumb over the head. “Then _come_ , babe.”

And Rhys does. He swears, his whole body tensing up and arching. Jack makes sure that all of the come lands on the black silk of the thong, ruining it for good.

“That’s a good boy,” he praises, wiping his hand off on the sheets. Then he leans on all fours, stalking forward above the heaving body. He admires Rhys’ meticulously kept happy trail and the blue tattoos, the way his nipples are swollen and the skin around them purple, the marks he left on Rhys’ neck. He pauses there, leaning in to suck another hickey on the side of his throat, on the tattooed side this time. Then he finally moves so he is face-to-face with the man underneath him and kisses him.

Right after an orgasm, Rhys is pliant. His lips part, allowing Jack to conquer his mouth, suck at his tongue and bite, pulling pitiful whimpers from him. One of his hands settles on Jack’s hip carefully, holding him to ground himself.

“Let me get a couple things, ‘kay Cupcake?” Jack hums when he finally tears himself away from the younger man. He gets up and walks to his walk-in closet, finding a wooden chest in the very back of the room. It has drawers and is neatly organised, everything kept in pristine condition for the rare occasion when he finds a plaything.

The thing that Jack needs first and foremost is a silver knife. It looks kinda like a ritual dagger and is very sharp. He imagines trailing it over Rhys’ chest, leaving a shallow but bleeding cut behind, and watching a hint of fear in the sub’s eyes, wondering if Jack is about to gut him.

On a second thought, Jack puts it away again. He decides to leave it for another day, believing that Rhys will be interested to do this again. Instead, he takes a much smaller knife, also sharp and made out of silver, with wooden handle. He takes a pair of bonds, too, not intending to use it unless Rhys needs it.

On his way back to the bedroom, Jack also retrieves a new bottle of lube (he had a dozen of those shipped from Dionysus, some exclusive stuff) and a couple condoms. He finds Rhys where he left him, now sitting up and completely naked. The come is wiped off his crotch and he has moved away from the stain that Jack left on the sheets. Surprisingly, there is still the mischievous glint in his eyes. _Still asking for more._

After placing all the stuff that he brought on the nightstand, Jack takes off some of his layers, keeping the sweater, shirt and slacks. Then he takes the lube and sits next to Rhys.

The younger man eyes the bottle somewhat warily and then bites his lip. The blush on his cheeks deepens, and he clears his throat out before speaking. “Uhm, I just… You should probably know that I’ve never done this before… With a man, I mean.” Tentatively, he looks up at Jack, gauging his reaction.

The CEO blinks. “Are you serious?” he asks, voice stone cold. “You’re telling me _now_?”

“I’m not asking you to _please, be gentle with me_ ,” Rhys mimics in a high-pitched voice, scowling at Jack. “It’s not like I haven’t had stuff in my ass before. Just haven’t had sex with a guy.” He pauses, his agitation dissipating. “Is that… a problem?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not at all,” Jack shakes his head. He also takes a second to calm down, reminding himself that Rhys didn’t keep anything important from him. In fact, Rhys is giving him something. Something that Jack really enjoys taking from his partners. It will be a pleasure popping this gorgeous man’s anal cherry.

“Do you want to prep yourself, or do you want me to help you with that?” he asks, new ideas and plans blooming in his mind.

Rhys considers it. “I think it’ll be faster if I do it,” he says, taking the bottle of lube from Jack’s hand. “You can… help in other ways, of course,” he adds, tilting his head back and exposing his neck suggestively.

Chuckling, Jack sits back against the headboard and manoeuvres Rhys to straddle him. When the younger man covers his organic hand in lube, Jack bends forward and begins littering kisses and bites on his neck.

He can feel the exact moment when Rhys pushes the first finger inside as his whole body tenses up, his jaw clenching. He is clearly not as used to this as he claims, and Jack can’t help himself but wonder how tight he will be.

When Rhys relaxes some more, Jack pulls away, reaching to the nightstand. He comes back with the small knife, presenting it to the man on his lap. A glint of light from Pandora dances shortly on the blade, as if it wasn’t intimidating enough on its own, and Jack swears he can see the same glint in Rhys’ eyes as he nods eagerly. He _did_ ask Jack to make him bleed, after all, and so the tip of the knife is pressed against his collarbone. A small tug to the side creates a shallow stinging cut.

Rhys closes his eyes and moans, wincing only slightly when Jack leans in and teases the cut with his tongue, catching the few drops of blood that had formed. When he is satisfied with this one, he creates another mark, repeating the process. He doesn’t create nearly as many wounds as Rhys had in the club, but they are Jack’s, made by _his_ hand and in _his_ bed, and that is satisfying enough on its own. And Rhys seems to think the same, his dick hard again and flushed red, straining towards Jack’s belly.

Another great idea crosses the CEO’s mind, and he creates a steadier series of cuts than the previous ones. Rhys hisses when the knife doesn’t let up for longer than the previous times, but he stays in place dutifully, continuing to stretch himself out for Jack. The curved line is the most difficult to cut with a steady hand, and it finally makes the younger man realise what is going on.

“Wha—” he gasps when he looks down at the **HJ** carved into his pec. He huffs a stuttering laugh and shakes his head. “Typical rich asshole,” he clucks his tongue.

Jack can’t stop an amused smile, remembering his own words, but he cannot let that jab slide. Taking Rhys’ cock in his left hand, he carefully presses the edge of the knife to the head in a feather-light touch. All movements still as Rhys draws a sharp breath, waiting.

“What was that?” Jack asks, smirking.

Rhys’ cock is pulsating in his hand, as if he was close to coming, and his voice is so wrecked that he might as well be. “A th-thank you, sir,” he says carefully, looking down at Jack with hooded eyes. In that moment, the CEO is ninety percent sure he is being asked to press down, actually cut the sensitive skin.

He doesn’t do that, though, putting the knife away. Rhys inhales deeply, sounding something between utterly disappointed and relieved. Jack gives him a minute to compose himself, and then he snakes both hands behind the younger man, cupping his butt and kneading. Rhys man lets out a keen, closing his eyes.

“Ready for me, kitten?” the CEO asks, the tips of his fingers pulling at Rhys’ stretched out hole in a way that is probably painful. The skin is slick with lubricant and taut, promising fun.

“J-just one minute,” the boy replies, his hand moving again. Jack can feel the movement as Rhys spreads his fingers every time he pulls them out, impatience growing as he forces his muscles to give, relax.

“Alright, take your time,” Jack hums and reaches to the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out a cigar, a lighter and a small ashtray. Smoking in bed is a bad habit, but he is the CEO and rich as hell; he can do whatever he wants. Besides, Rhys looks more than pleased by the return of the lighter, sparing it a mischievous glance.

“Not now,” Jack denies him with a laugh before he cuts the tip of the cigar off with the knife that he used to cut Rhys, and then lights the cigar. He already knows that it’s a good one, but he can’t stop the hum of appreciation when he takes the first pull, rolling the smoke around in his mouth. The taste is rich, bitter with just a side of salty.

When he looks up at the younger man, who went still some time ago, he notices his blatant stare and smirks. “See anything you like, Pumpkin?” he asks, taking another pull.

Instead of replying to that, Rhys straightens out, placing both his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “I’m ready,” he says, not as confident as he would probably like to be.

The smirk on Jack’s lips widens. He foregoes making a dirty joke to ask: “Condoms?”

Rhys shakes his head. “No, I… I want to feel you?” he says hesitantly, blushing.

The CEO laughs, shaking his head lightly. It might be the cigar, but the kid is unbelievably cute and dorky even when covered in small cuts, hickeys and his own blood. “Well, go on then,” he encourages him, spreading his legs a little.

The wait has caused Jack to turn only semi-hard, but that doesn’t bother Rhys in the slightest. Quite the opposite; he seems to jump at the opportunity to scoot a little backwards, undo Jack’s pants and finally take him hand, giving him a couple strokes before he takes him in his mouth.

Rhys’ blow job skills hint that there might be more things that he didn’t do with a guy before, that he is exploring today for the first time. He doesn’t use his tongue and chokes before he even takes Jack halfway – not that Jack _isn’t_ into choking, honestly – but it’s the enthusiasm that does it for the CEO, his dick hardening and growing in the sub’s mouth.

Eager to get on with the action, Rhys lets the cock slip out of his mouth with a _pop_ and reaches for the lube bottle, applying a generous coating to the hard member and wiping the excess off on the sheets. (Jack really gave the wrong impression when he did that the first time.) Then he scoots forward again, positioning himself at the tip while Jack shucks his pants off as quickly as possible.

Jack takes another long drag just as Rhys pushes down, taking the whole head in at once. A pained sound leaves his lips and his eyes screw shut as he tries to breathe through the sudden stretch. Jack’s hand that isn’t holding the cigar squeezes the younger man’s hip reassuringly, also holding him in place to prevent any further recklessness.

“Easy,” he murmurs, leaning in to kiss Rhys’ forehead while the smoke lazily escapes his mouth and nose. “There is no rush, kitten, no need to hurt yourself.”

“I—” Rhys gulps, taking a deep breath to ground himself. “I didn’t mean to do that,” he explains pitifully.

“You’re a dumbass,” Jack huffs, using the hand with the cigar to nudge Rhys’ chin up. “Just relax and let gravity do most of the work, ‘kay?”

Nodding, the younger man lets out a final breath before sinking another inch lower, this time much slower. Jack rewards him with a kiss, chuckling when Rhys smacks his lips at the taste. He decides to sit back and let Rhys set his own pace, putting his free hand behind his head and continuing to enjoy his cigar with the other one.

It takes a couple minutes for Rhys to work his way down the entire length. He keeps taking small breaks, sweat rolling down his temple, and when his ass finally meets Jack’s thighs, he almost sobs. His own arousal rests against Jack’s belly, hot and heavy, and his thighs tremble.

“You’re doing so good, kitten,” the CEO coos, kissing him again and again until Rhys relaxes. It’s not enough, though, and so he decides to indulge his new pet in some luxury.

Jack cups the younger man’s head firmly while he pulls smoke into his mouth, watching as understanding makes Rhys’ eyes widen. When he leans forward, Rhys obediently parts his lips and inhales the smoke that Jack releases into his mouth.

To his credit, Rhys only coughs a little, scowling at the taste. He leans up for more in the next second anyway, and Jack laughs into their next smoke-filled kiss.

After the third time they do it, Jack releases Rhys’ head from his grip and pats his hip. “I want you to ride me now, Rhysie,” he says. “ _Slowly_ ,” he adds.

Nodding, the younger man sets his hands on the CEO’s chest and begins to raise his hips all the way up until only the head of Jack’s cock remains in him. He sinks back just as slowly, nails digging into the older man’s skin when it becomes too much, but he doesn’t stop, repeating the movement until he is able to set a steady pace.

Moments like that are the reason why Jack considers himself a god sometimes. Rhys’ eyes remain on him but threaten to fall closed as he moans, relishing in the stretch of the CEO’s cock inside of him. He looks gorgeous, covered in Jack’s marks and willing to do anything to please him. Giving him his virginity without even thinking about it.

Denied for too long, Jack feels himself getting close too fast. It doesn’t help that Rhys is still almost painfully tight, and every time he makes his thighs work to raise him up, he squeezes down on Jack even tighter.

The CEO is not a huge fan of pain, but for this, he gladly makes an exception.

The pace that Rhys set keeps getting quicker, though not quick enough to be considered breaking the order to ride Jack slowly. But the CEO knows that the sub is also nearing his finish and wants more, so he gives it to him.

“Ready?” he asks, making a gesture with the cigar that Rhys easily understands. When he gets a gasped _yes_ as an answer, Jack pulls from the cigar for the last time, heating the tip up until it is bright orange. Then he puts his hand on Rhys’ shoulder, stopping his movement when he is down, and holding him in place as he presses the burning-hot tip underneath his right nipple.

The younger man screams, body buckling instinctively, but his expression turns to one of arousal and pleasure before Jack even takes the thing off, disposing of it in the ashtray. Tears-filled brown and blue eyes open to gaze at him when Rhys lets out a long, sinful moan, which goes straight to Jack’s dick.

He doesn’t hold back any longer and uses both hands to guide Rhys’ hips up and down, meeting the motion with a harsh thrust of his own. It takes him only a couple tries to find the spot that makes Rhys scream, a bit of a surprise appearing in the younger man’s face, which is kinda ridiculous in that situation.

“Oh Rhysie, you’re a treasure,” he laughs. “You were _made for me_ , Pumpkin. Just look how _easily_ your body is taking me, how it’s doing exactly what I want.” He wraps his right hand around Rhys’ leaking cock, causing him to buck his hips and shudder when that makes Jack’s dick slip out of him.

“Ah-tu-tu,” Jack clucks his tongue, guiding himself back in hastily. “Be a good boy, Rhysie,” he warns in a sweet tone, not letting on how desperate he is to finally fill Rhys up with his come. He resumes his previous pace, jerking Rhys off harshly at the same time and watching him fall apart, overstimulated and whining.

“You’re _close_ ,” Jack states, voice deep with lust. “Will you come for me again, kitten? Will you come on my cock, spreading you open like nobody’s done before? You will never have anyone filling you like I’m right now. You’re _mine_.”

Rhys shouts when he comes, face scrunching up. His walls squeeze around Jack and it only takes the other man a couple more thrusts to come too, fucking his come deep into the younger man’s ass. He bends forward when his orgasm hits him and bites Rhys’ shoulder hard, close to the scars from his cybernetics surgery, making him yelp and clench up even more.

It is satisfying in more than one way. In that moment, Jack feels like he owns the younger man, _knows_ that he is his entire universe, that he is the only thing that Rhys sees and hears and feels. He loves the power, gets drunk on it easily as he sinks his teeth deep, hoping to create a lasting mark to remind Rhys forever who he belongs to.

They both pant hard, coming down slowly from their mind-blowing orgasms. Jack, surprisingly, recovers first, blinking stars out from his vision but thinking clearly again, assessing the damage he’d done on the scarred skin. There is a bleeding bitemark and he can feel blood in his mouth, and it fills him with satisfaction.

When Rhys is able to climb off of Jack’s lap, the CEO leaves to retrieve one healing hypo from his bathroom stash, picking up a wet washcloth too. When he returns, he finds the younger man admiring all the marks on his body, especially the charred black burn.

“Everything alright, Cupcake?” the CEO asks, sitting down next to him.

“Yeah,” Rhys hums, prodding at the burn and hissing. “I kinda wanna keep the marks from you,” he admits.

“If I knew that, I would’ve been more precise and deliberate. Another time, maybe,” Jack promises, administering the hypo into Rhys’ outstretched arm.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Rhys says, watching the marks on his body heal up, leaving only bits of dried-up blood behind. “I’m gonna need to take a shower,” he deduces. “And, uh, maybe _please_ borrow a shirt? Since mine is ruined.”

“What happened to it?” Jack asks, rising an eyebrow.

Rhys gives him and unimpressed stare. “Someone tore it open and now there are several holes in it,” he explains.

“Oops,” Jack says, grinning and not feeling sorry at all. “I’ll give you something,” he promises. “Bathroom’s over there; you can take a shower if you feel like standing up yet,” he points his thumb in the general direction of the bathroom door and makes his way to the walk-in closet again to dig out something old and at least a size too small for him.

When Rhys walks out of the bathroom in his slacks and shoes, his chest naked and pristine once more, Jack dangles an old yellow shirt in front of himself, moving it away when Rhys reaches for it. “You said you wanted to keep a mark from me, right?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

Rhys smirks, understanding. “I personally think that it’s _unthinkable_ to leave without one after being banged by Handsome goddamn Jack, _sir_ ,” he says, walking up to him with the same confidence that he showed in the club. The game is really his element when he isn’t currently losing his virginity, and Jack is looking forward to the challenge that he was promised earlier that night.

With an appreciative rumble in his chest, Jack pulls Rhys close and kisses him. Then he tugs at his hair, pulling his head to the side to expose his neck, settling his lips right in the middle of the tattoo. He feels Rhys breathe out harshly and smirks against the skin, teasing the younger man with a few sloppy wet kisses before he suddenly bites down.

Rhys leaves the penthouse with a huge hickey in the middle of his circular tattoo, dressed in Handsome Jack’s old yellow shirt that he called disgusting but that looks incredibly good on him, and smiling widely, knowing that they will meet again.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you notice how Jack simply decided that Rhys already _is_ his sub, his pet and no-one else’s, without even asking him if he wants to do it again, _before they even fucked_ , because he’s just a self-assured asshole and simply _knows_ that Rhys is interested? See what I did there? 👉👈
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ElfWriting) and [Tumblr](https://lostelfwriting.tumblr.com/).


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